I am a person who loves cold weather – I don’t ski, I don’t ice fish …I read.
Snuggling under the covers with a cup of tea and a stack of books…its heaven on earth.
While I’m working I’ve been listening to Michael Connelly’s Heironymus Bosch series …the mysteries are complex enough to keep things interesting but not so much to distract me from my work….and the reader is pleasant with out being intrusive…I do find I want to know what happened and am delighted with the combination of the character and story driven plot.
Then came Johnny Rotten. I was an edge skirting punk fan. There was a band I followed and another I would see if it wasn’t out of my way. I adored shocking my very conservative co-workers with left over glitter and blue dye that wouldn’t wash out of my hair. Dubbed the Estee Lauder girl for my sweet looks in modeling school, I had to work extra hard to appear rough and my softer curves left me awkwardly amused among the ultra thin girls at our hang outs. Mosh Pits to the Sex Pistols, Echo & the Bunnymen, Ramones and New York Dolls gave thrust to our need for anti-belonging.
Now, in my advanced age …I get my kick from reading the punk life; a 2008 autobiography of John Lydon called ROTTEN: No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs. An amusing look at the punk life from the inside – a wanderer touching the lives of other mega and semi-mega talents. Introspective and ordinary John Lydon tells his story with an energy that is more thoughtful than frantic.
I did not highlight nor search out the moments about Sid, I swear.
Kiss those paper cuts!